Of Olympians and Oddballs
by Miss Bright
Summary: What begins with an apple doesn't always end with a horse. AU; DN/Greek Mythology crossover character study.
1. Prologue: Part One

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been almost a year since I joined the site. And what a year it's been, whew :D **

**To mark this anniversary, I'd like to introduce my next project – the one that will revolve around elements of Greek mythology. It's been rotting away in my brain for about four months now, as some of you may be aware. Anyway, enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: This is just a fan fic.**

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><p><strong>Prologue: Part One <strong>

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><p>If there was one thing that the goddess Aphrodite prized above all, it was her golden apple. She was particularly fond of taunting Hera and Athena about it whenever she went to visit her father up on Mount Olympus. She <em>especially<em> adored provoking her half-sister, the great deity of wisdom herself. Ah, yes. The mere mention of Athena's immature bout of vanity still brought a pink tinge of shame to her austere cheeks.

_Kallistē._

To the fairest, indeed.

The notorious Apple of Discord was the embodiment of Aphrodite's identity. It was the epitome of everything both beautiful and chaotic, a treasure beyond all treasures and the icon of legendary history. After all, it was _this_ very apple that had plunged the world into mankind's most epic war, a war that had been waged in the name of true love.

Solid gold and the size of her fist, Aphrodite's precious apple was kept under lock and key at all times. Nobody else besides her hideous but doting husband, Hephaestus, knew how to safely access the enchanted crystal case that had been built specifically to harbor and display the revered fruit. It was guarded better than even the almighty underworld (or so she'd thought).

The apple was more than just a trophy – it was Aphrodite's pride and joy. It was her baby.

It stood to reason that if it were ever to be misplaced, or Zeus forbid, _stolen_, the goddess of love and beauty would raise hell unlike any other.

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><p>"Do all apples taste the same, Light?"<p>

Ryuk bobbed serenely behind the college-bound student as they strolled through the park, which was nearly empty save for a frisky young couple taking advantage of the sunset.

Light sighed irritably, pulled out his cell phone and pressed it to the side of his face. "More or less," said Light.

"Then why do you only buy red apples for me?" Ryuk wondered. "What's wrong with the green ones?" He had seen Light's little sister, Sayu, eating a green one just that morning, which had immediately piqued his interest.

"Nothing. I just like Red Delicious more, personally."

That just confused him even more. "So the reds are more delicious?"

"Not necessarily, that's just what they're called," Light explained. "There are other kinds of red apples, such as Royal Galas and McIntoshes."

"Yum..." Just then, the Shinigami's legs involuntarily spasmed, nearly kicking Light in the head. "Oops, sorry!"

"Don't tell me you're going through withdrawal already. It's only been eight hours, Ryuk."

"You can't blame me. I've had an exhausting day," Ryuk grumbled.

"Fine, then let's head over to the supermarket."

Ryuk did a happy flip in mid-air. "Woohoo! Thanks, Light."

"Whatever." Light fell silent for a moment, and an expression of deep contemplation dawned on his sharp but boyish face. "You know, Ryuk, I find your love for apples extremely fascinating. Ironic, even."

"How so?"

"Well, considering that the apple is supposedly the fruit of original sin, it's quite the fitting snack for a Death God, huh?" Light murmured, smirking into his mobile.

"You could say that," Ryuk agreed. "I'm surprised, Light. I didn't think you were religious."

"I'm not," the teenager replied. "I am, however, a fan of symbolism."

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><p>"And I, for one, am I fan of trouble..."<p>

The vision vanished from the sparkling scrying mirror, and Eris gleefully bounded off her throne, unfurling her wings. So _this _was the unlikely pair that all the harpies had been harping about lately!

Rumors had been flying around – courtesy of said gossipy harpies and their siren cousins – about a Japanese Death God that had breached the human world in order to recover his notebook, which had somehow wound up in a human's possession. It had been a thousand years since the last time something similar had happened, but that hadn't been nearly as exciting as this current ordeal.

For one, there was now a radical revolution brewing beneath their celestial noses. Mortals were getting distracted, praying and worshipping less, and gods across the realms were growing restless. Whether they liked it or not, they weren't allowed to interfere with the notebook or "Kira" affair.

This was where _she_ would come in.

Eris wasn't the goddess of strife and discord for nothing. She absolutely thrived off of chaos. After all, Eris had been the one to send Hera, Athena and Aphrodite bickering over the golden apple to kingdom come three millennia ago.

There was no doubt that the Trojan War was her masterpiece, her _magnum opus. _Perhaps it was about time to come out of retirement and stir the pot firsthand once more...

And the incentive?

Well, Light Yagami certainly _was_ a handsome human being. He reminded Eris of one of those daft, pretty mortals that Aphrodite always frolicked with on the side. However, the sneaky little goddess only had eyes for the human boy's friend:

The Shinigami.

What big eyes he had! Such bluish lips and ivory teeth and lavender skin! But what ultimately sealed the deal for Eris was the Death God's glorious set of wings. They were of an ebony color that rivaled her own, and sported feathers that managed to appear both glossy and soft as silk.

To top it off, the Shinigami was quite naughty himself. According to the grapevine, he had _purposely _dropped his coveted notebook into the human realm. That just took the cake.

Eris sighed dreamily. "Ryuk" was his name; mischief was his game. He was the perfect package. Oh, what she wouldn't give to win over this magnificent creature!

_This _fiendish goddess was never one to back down from a challenge. She knew what she had to do.

It was time to brush off the old toolkit and kill two birds with one stone.

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><p><strong>AN: After the two-part prologue, expect both crack and angst, and then some randomness in between. The premise of this fic is to compare and contrast certain Death Note characters with their most likely Greek God counterpart in the context of a running but background plot. Therefore, each chapter will only be loosely related. **

**Feedback would be awesome ^_^**


	2. Prologue: Part Two

**A/N: ****And here's the second half of the prologue****!**

**As you'll see, I'm going to be following the classical scheme of the Twelve Olympians (a.k.a. the Canonical Twelve) while only focusing ****on 10 of the 12 in no particular order (therefore 10 Death Note characters in total). So you can expect ten chapters and an epilogue from this point on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.**

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><p><strong>Prologue: Part Two<strong>

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><p>"<em>Daddyyyyyyyyyyy!"<em>

Zeus jolted straight up in his bed, roused by the high-pitched wail that resonated throughout the palace. Beside him, Hera stirred.

"What _is_ that dreadful noise?"

"That," grumbled a very cross Hera, "would be your daughter."

Sure enough, Aphrodite came bursting into the reigning couple's chambers, red-faced and fuming. Despite being more enraged than he had ever seen her, the pouting goddess still managed to look better than everyone else on the face of Mount Olympus. Zeus silently marveled at the fact that not even a single golden hair upon his daughter's divinely gorgeous head was out of place.

His wife pulled the silk covers up to her shoulders. "To what do we owe you this displeasure?" Hera demanded waspishly.

_"It's gone!" _Aphrodite cried. "It was _you, _wasn't it?"

Hera's lip curled. "What are you talking about?"

_"Don't play dumb, you wench!_ Where is it?"

"Wench? How dare you!"

"QUIET!"

Zeus raised a massive hand, causing the air to crackle with energy – literally. Five blue-silver lightning bolts streaked across the room and flew out the open balcony, accompanied by a loud roll of thunder. His wife and daughter flinched and fell silent.

"That's more like it. Now, Affy, take a deep breath and tell us what happened," he coaxed.

Aphrodite glared down at her stepmother, her fists clenched at her sides. "My apple's gone. Somebody broke through my protective spells somehow and took it!"

Hera's eyes widened in surprise, which quickly transformed into delight. "Oh, glorious day!" she exclaimed. "Whoever it was deserves a medal."

Aphrodite frowned. "So then... it wasn't you?"

"No. I've been in bed the last three days. Just ask your father."

"It's true, sweetheart. Well, actually, _bed _is a relative term –"

Aphrodite clapped her hands over her ears and glowered at him. Zeus coughed and hastily changed the subject. "Have you tried scrying for it?"

"Duh! What do you think I am, an idiot?" the goddess sniffed. "That's exactly the problem... _I can't find it. _I can't locate it at all, not even with my mirrors!_"_

Hera raised a brow. "Strange. Dark forces must be at work."

"D-Dark forces?"

This sent alarm bells ringing in the Olympian ruler's head. But before Zeus could say a word, his charming but ill-tempered daughter opened her big, fat trap once again and the unearthly scream that erupted from her throat bounced out the balcony doors, down the Mount, and expanded into the vast skies, surely reaching every corner of their realm, if not the universe:

_"ERIS!"_

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><p>It hadn't even been an hour since the trouble-loving goddess broke into Aphrodite's not-so-humble abode and made away with the golden prize when she was apprehended by the almighty Zeus himself. It was fair to say that he was less than amused.<p>

Eris soon found herself disarmed, manacled, and chained to a towering pillar like a common slave. Not to mention that this pillar stood at the heart of Mount Olympus's Classical Court, where all twelve Olympians currently hovered above her at their ring of podiums. She peeked up at them through her disarray of dark curls.

Zeus. Hera. Poseidon. Demeter. Athena. Dionysus. Apollo. Artemis. Ares. Hermes. Hephaestus. And last but not least, Aphrodite.

"I gotta say, this is kinda kinky," Eris called out cheerfully, rattling her gilded restraints. However, she couldn't help but wince; the more she struggled or moved, the more the cuffs tightened around her wrists – jinxed links. "H-Hey, this is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"For you? Nothing is too extreme," came the rumbling reply. "Your punishment is long overdue."

"If you're referring to the Trojan War, don't forget that we _all _had a little fun with that. Even _you_, Zeus."

_Zap!_

Eris yelped when an electric bolt the size of her body struck the stone floor right next to her feet. Her nostrils were suddenly filled with the scent of something akin to molten lava. "Okay, fine, I'll shut up now!"

"Thievery is not tolerated on Olympus, Eris. Return the apple to Aphrodite at once."

The imprisoned goddess shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see...I've lost it."

"You _what_?" Aphrodite shrieked while her family looked on incredulously.

Eris chuckled, soaking up the limelight. They were undoubtedly wondering how she had even managed to get her hands on Aphrodite's precious apple in the first place. Well, loopholes had always been her specialty.

While Aphrodite's enchantments did indeed protect the crystal trophy case from being _attacked, _they were passive against fellow forms of defense magic, including shielding. It had been a simple matter of casting an illusion over the golden apple and waiting for Aphrodite to notice the "empty" case. When she did, the temperamental goddess had gone berserk and smashed the case to bits in a fit of rage, leaving Eris free to whisk away the invisible Apple of Discord while Aphrodite fled to the palace to seek out her father like the brat she was.

"You heard me," Eris replied. "It's no longer in my possession. I, ah, accidentally _dropped_ it into the human world."

Her statement was met with several gasps.

"It wasn't accidental at all, was it?" the great and wise Athena snapped.

Eris answered this with another question: "If fate is the sum of accidents, what exactly qualifies as an accident?"

"Cut the philosophical crap. You're embarrassing yourself," Athena said coldly. "I'd wager a city that you were hoping we'd actually care about it enough to play fetch for your amusement."

_Bingo._

Eris, feeling very much like the cat that swallowed the canary, sat back and watched as the inevitable and unfailingly entertaining bickering unfolded before her.

Just as planned.

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><p>Aphrodite was furious. She should've known that Athena wouldn't actively support her, especially since it involved the apple, the main source of their rivalry. The only reason that Athena was even there was because their father was such a stickler for tradition.<p>

"We can't afford to launch a manhunt into the mortal realm. Look at it logically. It's only gold, and it has no magical properties. It's not worth pursuing." Well, _someone _was still jealous and bitter!

To Aphrodite's annoyance, the rest of the Classical Court began to murmur in agreement. Luckily for her, she had a proverbial ace hidden up her sleeve.

"If you don't help me find it, I'll eradicate the human race," the vengeful goddess of love, beauty and sexuality announced. "I'll make men fall in love with dogs, and women with birds. Disease will ravage the earth and populations will dwindle, and no longer will you have Athens at your feet!" The last part, of course, was directed at Athena.

Zeus looked worried. "Affy, you can't mean that."

"Oh, but I do! Athena may be right about it being only made of gold, but everyone knows it means the world to me. The question now is… who will join me?"

"We can't leave Olympus," Zeus and Hera said simultaneously, "but the rest of you can."

A chorus of groans, mingled with the erratic laughter of a certain captive, rose from the celestial court. Aphrodite smiled triumphantly. Nobody could argue against Zeus; his word was always final.

"Can't we just rip everyone apart limb from limb until we find the damn apple?" the bloodthirsty Ares wanted to know.

"This will be a covert mission. We cannot interfere with innocent human lives," Athena said stiffly.

"Where do we start?" Dionysus asked excitedly.

His question stumped the group. To everyone's surprise, it was Eris who finally broke the silence.

"Obviously, you should start with those who deserve it the most," Eris said sleekly. _"To the fairest. _I wonder what that could mean!_"_

The reaction was instantaneous.

"Oh boy," Zeus sighed, "here we go again."

"That'd be the loveliest," Aphrodite declared.

"No, the wisest," Athena argued.

"The civilest," Demeter cut in.

"Only the bravest," Ares shouted.

"The kindest," Hermes admonished.

"I'd say the brightest," Apollo interjected just as Artemis piped up with, "The purest."

"The humblest," Hephaestus proposed.

"The coolest," Poseidon yawned, clearly bored.

"Whoever's the funnest," Dionysus cheered.

"That's not even a word," Athena retorted, causing Dionysus to blush and rub his head sheepishly. "Anyway, seems like we're not getting anywhere with this."

"I think it'll be best if we split up," Apollo suggested, throwing a sideways glance at his twin sister.

Artemis nodded. "Yes," she said serenely. "The faster we find it, the faster we can get back to business."

And so it was decided.

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><p><strong>AN: That was pretty fun to write. Matching them was definitely the "funnest" part ;) **

**I'm still debating whether or not to change the title of this fic. "Museum" is supposed to represent "character study" and the passive observance of the characters as though they were exhibits. "Museum" is not going to be a literal, physical building. I'll eventually make that clearer by the end of the fic, though ^_^**

**Hope you liked it, and thanks for the great reviews so far! Stay tuned for more :D**


	3. Intoxication

**A/N: ****Is it just me, or has the site changed the format of the line breaks? The spacing is pretty cramped now. But anyway, as you probably noticed, I've changed the title of this fic to something less abstract and more logical. Hope you'll like it ^_^ **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

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><p><strong>Intoxication<strong>

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><p>Dionysus viewed this "search and rescue" mission, thus dubbed by his drama queen half-sister Aphrodite, as a mini vacation. Earth was definitely cooler than Mount Olympus. Everything was more vibrant down here, more dynamic. Dionysus had always been the adventurous type. And what could be more adventurous than exploring unknown territory?<p>

Yeah, he was supposed to get in and out as soon as possible, but whoever said that you couldn't work and have fun at the same time should've been beheaded. Besides, it wasn't _his_ fault that he fell in love with everything that moved and got distracted as easily as a bird by a shiny object.

Oh wait, yes it was.

Exactly six unfruitful – in more ways than one – Earth months had passed when Dionysus happened to chance upon a human named Taro Matsui, or Touta Matsuda. Funnily enough, the twenty-five-year old Japanese man wasn't quite his ideal target. Then again, the best things are discovered by accident.

Up until now, the fun-loving god had mainly been spying on young females, most of them with fancy houses and an appetite for his favorite form of modern entertainment. _Clubbing_, it was called. It had the best of two worlds. Drinking. Dancing. More drinking and dancing. So far, Amsterdam and Las Vegas had been his top two pit stops.

Tokyo came a close third.

The wine god had initially been attracted by the unmistakable scent of expensive booze and budding intoxication rising through the smog from the heart of Japan. Soon, he found himself among a large gathering of lingerie-clad models that were playing host to several businessmen in an upscale hotel in downtown Shibuya. Their little soiree boasted all the signs of a pleasurable evening. The women poured sake, and the men drank it up like fish. Was _nihonshu_ actually that good?

Dionysus did his best to quash the overwhelming temptation to sample the rice wine himself. What would his family think? As much as he adored goofing off, he also wanted their respect. All of his siblings already had a hard time taking him seriously as it was.

If the young god, the last to join the elite Olympians, could be the one to recover the golden apple, he would no longer be merely viewed as the clown of the bunch nor the undeserving whack-job. The one that was never meant to belong. The outsider. The deviant. The outcast.

Even so, his patience was wearing thin. Dionysus couldn't help but feel frustrated by the lack of progress. The mortals chatted and flirted, but that was about it. The invisible god listened and waited for any clues regarding the golden apple's whereabouts, but to no avail; the topic of Yotsuba Corporation's rising stock dominated the conversations.

Bored out of his skull, Dionysus prepared to make his departure. Though he had only been here for all but thirty Earth minutes, already he had a feeling that this party was bound to be yet another dead end. Oh well, time to crash another.

That was when the aforementioned man made his grand re-entrance from his trip to the bathroom. The door suddenly flew open, and Taro Matsui burst into the room, startling everyone with a loud giggle.

"_Oh, wowww, I am sooooo drunk…"_

Everybody watched in confusion as Misa Amane's manager shuffled toward the balcony and slid open the door. There were a few noncommittal grunts of concern, but Matsui waved them off, laughing drunkenly. "Now, everyone, the moment you've all been waiting for. The Taro Matsui show! _Hahaha_!"

It was a show, all right. Dionysus saw through Touta Matsuda's act in a heartbeat. The wine god couldn't detect a single drop of alcohol in the mortal man's bloodstream.

Yet Matsuda continued to sway like a puppet on strings, like a person who really was under the influence. His eyes, his eyes betrayed him to the god – eyes that were sharp with fear yet blazing with hope. A disturbing combination. It was then that the man pulled himself atop the ledge of the balcony and executed a wobbly but impressive handstand. Several of the businessmen shouted at him to stop.

A few seconds later, Matsui lost his balance and fell.

Before he could stop himself, Dionysus dove right after him.

It was thrilling on so many levels. In the years to come, Dionysus would never come across a mortal like him again. Touta Matsuda. The memory of the Japanese man disappearing over the edge would forever be imprinted into the god's eternal mind. Not because of the fleeting shock value, but because of the curious knee-jerk instinct it had inspired. Because of the impulse that would very shortly earn him a huge scolding from Athena and cost him his stint as a member of Aphrodite's retrieval team despite his fervent apologies.

No sane, sober man would intentionally throw himself off a building.

Dionysus just _had _to know why he did it. He wanted a taste of the man's madness.

They descended, side by side. Mortal and god. Like loose cannons, they plummeted through the night unrestrained and free from every kind of responsibility, leaving behind the screams of horror that issued from the hotel suite above them. They were just meaningless noises now. Nothing else existed but their free fall and the promise of a messy death for Taro Matsui.

And then Dionysus took over.

Divine possession was something that he normally reserved for the worthiest people – the wildest and most extravagant of his cult worshippers, those who drank and partied and reveled in debauchery until they passed out. The Ancient Greeks hadn't attributed ritual madness and ecstasy to him, patron of all that was crazy and irrational and unpredictable, for nothing.

It was swift and painless – intoxication at its finest. Matsuda, aware of only his scattered senses, would only remember the murky bliss of sub-consciousness afterwards as Dionysus seized control of his central nervous system and merged their minds together.

A medley of voices instantly filled the god's head. Matsuda's own, laced with fear, and another, a faceless baritone bittersweet and comforting as pinot noir, the latter advising the former to "die before he could be killed."

"_N-No way! But… but that's crazy!" _

Crazy or not, it was the only way out. To save and be saved. Trust him. Trust him, submit to him and obey him. And if all goes wrong, blame him. That second voice was what rendered him powerless. It was what pushed Matsuda – friend, cop, colleague, _whipping boy_, fool and idiot – over the edge.

It had all been premeditated, the god now realized. There was method in his madness.

And it was brilliant.

All of a sudden, there was a soft thud, and the sounds of Tokyo's nightlife came rushing back. Dionysus stared blankly at the sight before him: a tilted mattress and a mustached human yanking him to safety. No, not _him_. Matsuda.

Touta Matsuda, "mad" Matsuda, had survived. He had triumphed. He had chosen to fall only to rise again.

And Dionysus couldn't help but feel a little amazed.

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><p><strong>AN: Recent theologians actually associate the concept of rebirth/resurrection and even Jesus himself with Dionysus (hence the allusion there at the end). Strange, but cool.**

**Next up, Hermes and Watari! Don't worry; it won't be as trippy as this one, haha.**


	4. Goodwill

**A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback. You are such wonderful readers :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

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><p><strong>Goodwill<strong>

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><p>Hermes had always had a soft spot for poor Dionysus, who he had single-handedly nurtured at infancy as a favor to Zeus. Unfortunately, his little brother was now reportedly moping around in bed and drowning his sorrows in bunches of rare Ruby Roman grapes. After the youngest Olympian god was banished from the human realm for reckless behavior, the rest of his siblings were warned not to make the same mistake. They were also ordered to "hurry the hell up" as so bluntly phrased by a hysterical Aphrodite.<p>

Hermes didn't need to be told twice. He wasn't known as the god of speed for nothing.

With the wind at his heels and enchanted sandals on his feet, Hermes dutifully breezed through Earth's different nations in search of Aphrodite's golden prize. It was his personal theory that it was in the safe hands of a kind and modest soul, which would explain why there wasn't so much as a peep about a sizeable chunk of twenty-four karat gold randomly floating around. It couldn't have been pawned for cash, or it would've garnered public attention by now.

Perhaps it had been discovered by a private collector who was only interested in its artistic and not its monetary value, Hermes guessed. Someone who was currently watching over it in secrecy, someone who would rather protect a treasure than use it. A guardian, like himself.

Nonetheless, it was ironic: here he was, Hermes, the patron of searches and lost items, yet he couldn't even track down one measly trinket. Whatever Eris had done to the apple before "losing" it must have been some insanely advanced brand of magic.

The messenger god had wasted the last half-year keeping a keen ear and eye out for any abnormal or noteworthy mentions of the Apple of Discord in the media. Needless to say, he was coming up empty-handed. Everything was all Kira, Kira, Kira. And the other problem? Discerning the kindhearted wasn't exactly black and white. It was especially difficult now to tell the difference between acts of kindness stemming from real compassion and those that actually stemmed from fear of Kira's judgment.

The hunt for the apple was wearing him thin. Unlike the majority of his brothers and sisters, Hermes still had a very important job to do. Other priorities to juggle.

By night, he delivered dreams. Thousands and thousands of them, streams of shimmering fantasies and radiant visions. Zeus counted on Hermes to swiftly pass along these dreams to the mortals, and in turn, they depended on him to send the heavens their prayers. Hermes was their divine messenger, their shepherd, and they, his charges. His children.

Being both the king's proxy and the people's voice was a huge responsibility, but Hermes enjoyed it immensely. Not because it was the closest he would ever come to being omniscient, but because the herald liked seeing the smiles of those whose sweet dreams he safely guided. This went for everyone. Hermes took care of saints and sinners alike: philanthropists and humanitarians, thieves and whores. As he could be quite the sly fox himself sometimes, Hermes advocated unconditional mercy. His benevolence knew no boundaries.

_He _knew no boundaries, emotionally nor physically.

He _owned _them.

As a highly respected diplomat between the mortal and immortal worlds, Hermes was allowed to move freely and operate anywhere he wished, even the underworld. Politics meant nothing to him. It wasn't that he was above the law, it was just that nobody complained as long as the mediator did a good job – which was why Zeus always turned a blind eye whenever Hermes paid unauthorized, though discreet, visits to his sole contact on Earth.

It was a mortal that Hermes had struck up a long-standing acquaintanceship with half a century ago, someone the god had grown to be fond of. He was a fellow inventor, a successful and famous one at that. Hermes had never seen anything like it before: mountains of patents, heaps of money that existed only to be given away, and a generous heart as wide and deep as the ocean.

This man – this extraordinary specimen – went by the name of Quillsh Wammy.

Quillsh was one of the most resourceful and well-connected humans on the planet, which was the main reason Hermes had sought him out all those years ago. He had heard things about the human, things that had impressed the god and driven him to introduce himself in hopes of tapping into the mortal's wealth of knowledge and assets.

Quillsh had welcomed him with goodwill and open arms.

In exchange for the hottest new gadgets and gizmos that made it easier for him to monitor Earth's social interactions via the "Internet", Hermes would lend a hand in tweaking the reclusive inventor's current projects, whether it'd be a solar-powered clock or a recipe for Greek cheesecake. While Hermes was expressly forbidden by Zeus to advance the human race (hadn't he already done enough damage providing them with fire on top of the alphabet _and_ number systems?), there was nothing in the rulebook that said he couldn't occasionally point them in the right direction.

And so their partnership was a win-win situation. They had a funny arrangement, the two of them. When they weren't conducting business, they liked to chat. They discussed sports, one of the god's favorite subjects. Quillsh didn't look it, but he was a superb sniper and was exceptionally handy with a rifle.

Although they had an unspoken agreement not to pry too much into each other's personal lives, Hermes was genuinely interested in the enigmatic agent that was "Watari" and vice versa (well, who wouldn't be? He was an Olympian god, after all). While Watari had no qualms with hooking him up with fancy electronic toys, the reserved man kept his lips politely sealed on the subject of family and friends – not that Hermes didn't have an inkling of who they were.

It suddenly occurred to Hermes that he could enlist Quillsh's assistance. Why not? Watari _was_ extremely smart and talented for a human, as well as trustworthy. Surely he would be able to help Hermes put this wild goose chase to an end! The god's mind whirled with excitement at the prospect of seeing his old friend again.

When it came to Hermes, Watari had an open-door policy all year round, but due to the nature of the man's occupation as a certain high-maintenance detective's handler, it was more like an "open door only if you can find it" policy. Not that it really mattered; the messenger god had an innate tracking ability. Like a homing pigeon only better, he could zero in on anyone, anywhere, anytime.

The last time he had visited Watari, he had been staking out the Peruvian countryside with his principal, where Hermes had appeared to the elder in the form of a _gallo navajero peruano_. L had suspected nothing, and Quillsh had been warm and hospitable as usual, providing him with grub and worms to feast on. Yes, even when caught up in espionage, Watari always made time for him. A right gentleman, that one was. A mortal that truly took after himself.

Perhaps he could get Watari to whip up some kind of giant metal detector that would locate the golden apple for him the good old-fashioned way, Hermes mused. He certainly was rich enough to build that sort of thing.

With that idea firmly in mind, Hermes took off for Asia, crossing Africa and Europe in a heartbeat. As he began to touch down on the rooftop of a particularly tall skyscraper in Japan, his winged sandals flashed among the clouds to signal his arrival. It was already raining, so the sudden bolt of blue-silver lightning didn't look too out of place.

A minute later, Hermes strode into Quillsh's lair of machines, shadows, and all things mysterious that screamed _Watari_. It was one of the few rooms in the building that didn't have any cameras. The god didn't bother to disguise himself; the pair was alone. He could see the old mortal curled up on the floor, motionless in the computers' alien white glow and overhead red light.

That was strange. Watari wasn't one to fall asleep on the job.

"Watari?"

Silence.

"Quillsh, it's me," Hermes said quietly.

Again, there was no response. Hermes tiptoed toward the sleeping man, knelt down and gave his face a soft nudge. He blinked when his fingers met the unmistakable flesh of a corpse. Cold. Dead. Gone before his time. In hindsight, he should've known. The facts had not registered with him until this moment – perhaps he had just been in denial. _Japan. Kira. __The notebook. The reapers. Of course._ The god withdrew his hand and sighed.

The mournful strings of a lyre, heralding the death of an incredible man, would later accompany Quillsh Wammy's funeral procession in the following week – a final gift, a final salute.

He would see to it personally.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: _Gallo navajero peruano_ is a type of rooster, which is one of Hermes's symbols, as is his invention of the lyre, a harp-like instrument. And as you may know, Hermes, the great messenger of the gods is also the patron of spies, traveling, hospitality, inventions and athletes. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.**

**Hope you liked that chapter. The next one will feature L and Athena!**


	5. Warrior

**A/N: What's this? An early-ish update? :D**

**An apology goes out to Flying Snowball of Death, who was looking forward to a "battle of wits" between L and Athena. Unfortunately it didn't work out that way, ****since chronologically speaking, L's now dead :(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

><p><strong>Warrior<strong>

* * *

><p>"Athena," her brother said solemnly, "Watari is dead." He paused. "As is L."<p>

The goddess rose from her throne. Her body armor clinked as she moved toward the window of her personal chamber. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

Hermes was surprised. "How did you –?"

Athena smiled grimly. "The owls," she told him, "they're very quiet today."

Never before had she heard such poignant silence from the celestial garden. It was the sort of silence that rang with uncertainty, the sort that stuck out like a sour note instead of marking a peaceful rest. It was awkward and painful. The absence of the owls' coos made her realize that she had always taken their song for granted.

"Are they grieving?" Hermes whispered, staring out into the trees.

"They're in observance. The wise... do not grieve."

The messenger god thankfully took the hint and bent down to buckle his talaria. Its tiny wings fluttered awake and began beating against the god's ankles. "Well then, I'd better get going."

Athena eyed her brother's golden sandals. "You're still searching for the apple, I presume?"

"What, you're not?"

"No, I gave up a while ago."

Six months, to be precise. The moment Eris had given the twelve Olympians that clue – _to the fairest – _the goddess of wisdom had kept only one single suspect in mind. Out of 6.5 billion mortals, the prime recipient would've had to be the cleverest being on the planet. A pure genius. There was no disputing who that was.

And now he was gone.

Hermes frowned. "You, giving up? Who would've guessed?"

_I gave up because I was wrong._

"It's a waste of time," Athena said, lacing her words with contempt. "You would do well to realize that now. The things you people do to please Aphrodite. Such nonsense_._"

Hermes looked a little worried. "If we don't find it for her, she'll destroy the human race! You heard her. She'll couple them with animals and –"

"A bluff. Besides, she can't say that I didn't try. I did as much as I could," Athena muttered, "even if I haven't stepped foot off Olympus."

It was true, and they both knew she had her reasons. Aside from Artemis, Athena was the only other virgin on Mount Olympus. She preferred to keep it that way, which was why she mainly operated from afar when dealing with human affairs. Indeed, advice-seekers were rewarded with epiphanies and newfound ideas, thoughts that Athena herself implanted in their heads. With Athena, solutions were almost always guaranteed.

But unlike her siblings, Athena rarely ever graced her mortal followers with divine possessions or visitations, which typically ended in shameless mating. When the shrewd maiden goddess chose to intervene, it would be from a safe distance: the mental plane.

Otherwise, one would have to be _very_ special to earn Athena's up-close-and-personal attention.

Perhaps it was extreme of her to be so fiercely self-protective and selective, but she couldn't help it. Defense was in her nature, prudence in her blood. The deepest levels of trust and intimacy she'd ever known was acting as a surrogate mother to heroes long gone but not forgotten: Heracles, son of Zeus and mortal; Odysseus, master of the Trojan Horse; Menelaus, king of Sparta. With Athena as their protectress, they had all benefited from her unparalleled guidance and support with military tactics.

It was unfortunate that Zeus, who was superstitious of every prophecy foretold by the titans, had forbidden his justice-impassioned daughter from assisting the very one who could've saved the present world from Kira. Given that the Shinigami and notebook were out of their jurisdiction, toeing the line would most certainly spark a diplomatic catastrophe between their worlds, as warned by the mother Titan Gaia.

Athena had had no choice but to relent, and the frustrated Olympian goddess was reduced to a mere bystander, unable to use her cunning wiles of strategic warfare to light the way for the spearhead of the Kira resistance...

...L.

The only consolation was that her bloodthirsty brother was in the same predicament. Ares was an openly proud advocate of the ever-growing Kira revolution, which disgusted Athena and annoyed Zeus, who already liked the violent god the least of all his children.

Hermes suddenly cleared his throat. "Well, I'll let you know if we get any more leads," the messenger said.

"_Tsk_. I doubt you will," Athena replied. "I'm not even sure we should consider Eris's hint a lead. For all we know, she's just screwing with us." The last she heard, Eris had gotten Hephaestus to make her a new batch of scrying mirrors just so she could simultaneously watch the Olympians scurry around on Earth like mice in a maze. That troublemaking brat was undoubtedly getting a kick out of this.

Hermes groaned. "I wouldn't put it past her," he admitted.

Just then, a cacophony of hoots erupted outside from the garden. The pair of siblings froze in awe. The normally staccato owl calls lingered in the air, soft and haunting. Low and sorrowful in defiance of Athena's initial assertion that they did not grieve.

Athena immediately felt an overwhelming sensation of being suffocated, like something was crushing her armor chest plate. Suddenly, all she could think of was how much she wanted fresh air. Air. She needed out. She needed to think, to breathe, to _fly._

"Hermes?"

"Yeah?"

"Bid farewell to L for me."

And then she was off. Athena, now shrunken and feathered, instantly became airborne. Fortunately for her, the Mount's conditions were favorable that evening. The sky was clear, and there was a gentle breeze aiding her silent flight.

_Glaucus, _Athena sang. _Glaucus, come to me._

Sharp yellow eyes glared up at her out of the darkness that was the wooded garden. Athena swiftly banked left, and when she finished rounding the corner of the Olympian palace, her loyal pet and only companion was at her side.

_Good boy._

The owls soared through the night, the smaller of the two an indistinguishable shadow in stark contrast to the magnificent white bird-goddess gliding beside him. Athena was completely aware of the raw power she emanated; she continued stretching her wings as far as she could. The larger the span, the more of the world she seemed to embrace. Flying gave her the wonderful illusion of hugging both the clouds and the fields. It also helped to clear her head.

Yearning filled Athena's heart. It had been so long since the goddess had gone to battle. It wasn't that she desired bloodshed, but that she missed the feeling of accomplishment, of success born out of the intense comradeship and solidarity that only conflict and war could give birth to.

Did L ever feel any of it? Athena wondered. Did he ever feel the familial love between soldiers? The anguish of losing a comrade? The bittersweet joy and guilt of vengeance? The glowing pride of victory?

What had L Lawliet fought for, anyway?

It was obvious that the man had only been loyal to his own goal. _Justice. _For humans, it was such an arbitrary term, an overly abstract concept. But L had spent his entire life defining, shaping and pursuing it that he had actually _become _it. L and justice were almost synonymous.

Almost.

More than anyone else, Athena understood the desirability of "the greater good" and the appeal of using the end to justify the means. Kira had used men in prison as guinea pigs for his notebook experiments, as did L in baiting Kira. In principle, the two rivals were no different. And as a patroness of justice, Athena could not approve of L's underhanded tactics.

True, Earth's many legal systems were already warped, broken beyond repair and had more holes in them than Swiss cheese; however, two wrongs did not make a right. But the reality was that this would only be acknowledged in an ideal world such as Mount Olympus.

Of course, there _was_ one acceptable exception to that rule. One exception – no matter how much human moralists, rationalists and philosophers argued until they were blue in the face – that could help redeem the man's actions.

And that was sacrifice.

Was L a martyr? Athena didn't think so. Martyrdom suggested nobility and honor, two romantic notions that the mortal man hadn't seemed to be particularly concerned about. Although the detective knew he was probably going to die, L most certainly would've preferred to live on to continue his work, to continue carrying out the name and game of _justice_. While death had always been an inevitability, it had not been on L's agenda. Still, he had accepted it all the same and chose to reveal himself to the outside world. To Kira.

No, L wasn't a martyr. But like Heracles, Odysseus and Menelaus, he was a hero. A hero whose tale would probably one day join the likes of Athena's legendary charges. Heroes that boasted both brawn and brains.

L. This man had willingly sacrificed his livelihood, wrapping himself in thousands of cases and building an intangible crime-fighting empire – a kingdom of his own. Yes, L had manipulated and lied along the way, gaining enemies on both sides of the table, but he had always inspired respect rather than fear. He had fought with heart and instinct, like a true warrior in the midst of a bloodbath.

He had fought for justice not on behalf of some delusional idea of peace but for the very sake of justice itself. He had sacrificed everything for it.

"L" was more than just a public symbol – there had been a real person behind that letter, and within that person, there had been a fierce warrior. A warrior that fought to his last breath defending natural law, a warrior that died defending the innocent from moral corruption and the would-be victims from unrighteous punishment.

He had been strong. He had been brave.

L might not have been the victor, but he sure had been one hell of a fighter.

As if reading her thoughts, Glaucus gave an exultant hoot and dropped down toward the Mount, toward Athena's bedroom, where a hot bath and soft bed were waiting.

_And that alone_, the goddess decided, diving after the other owl, _is commendable enough_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****I personally do believe that L is/could be a martyr (depending on various interpretations, as expected) but here, I specifically wanted to present him in a slightly different light through the eyes of a god. Hope you liked it :)**

**Next will be Light and Ares****. Let's just say there will be a lot of… dialogue *evil wink***


	6. Almighty

**A/N:** **Sorry for the**** slow update.**** I've been hurting over Vancouver's Stanley Cup loss, reading ****The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown****, and catching up on random movies. Anyway… this is me making it up to you with an extra-long chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

><p><strong>Almighty<strong>

* * *

><p>"Tell me who you gave it to."<p>

Eris fluttered her lashes at him, mockingly seductive. "Why should I?"

Ares, champion of everything violent and bloody and wonderfully gory, smiled just as charmingly at his estranged sister, former best friend and ex-lover.

"So it _wasn't_ an accident, then."

The goddess's smirk faded, and she bared her tiny pointed teeth at the hulking god. "Oldest trick in the book, Ares. Not impressed."

"It still worked, did it not?"

Eris shot him a look of disdain. "Why do _you _care so much, anyway? Don't tell me you're still hung up over _her!"_

"Aphrodite?" he muttered. Their publicized affair had been a major reason for his falling out with Eris and Zeus. "No, nothing like that."

Eris arched a questioning brow.

"Listen, I just want to get to the apple before anyone else does, I _need_ it to impress the old man. He's still angry at me for, well, just about everything. Dionysus is out of action. Hermes and Athena have given up. Zeus is pissed, and I want to – _can _– fix that."

"Hmph." The goddess coolly inspected her fingernails. In actuality, they were more like vulture claws, glossy purple talons that could rip through almost anything in their path. Ares's lips tightened with distaste. While he was quite fond of carcass-ravaging birds, he harbored no affection for the goddess _witch _who so much resembled one.

"For the love of Zeus, are you going to tell me or not?" he demanded.

"What's in it for me?"

Ares flicked the gilded bars that kept Eris locked up like a caged animal, and the room was instantly filled with a pleasant _ping_-ing noise. "I can get you out of here, darling. The old man will be lenient if I put in a good word for you –"

Eris was smug as a Siren who had snagged her first sailor. "Ha! Whoever said I wanted to leave yet, _darling_?" The goddess spread her white arms wide, gesturing toward the scrying mirrors that lined the prison cell walls. "I have my very own home theater here. Dear old Hephaestus owed me a favor," she added before Ares could ask.

"Lucky you," grumbled the Olympian god. His head snapped to the side. "Hey, isn't that –?"

"Oops!" Eris whirled around and the image vanished, but it was already too late. In the first scrying mirror, Ares had caught a glimpse of a well-groomed Asian teenager situated at a table – a writing desk – with a jester-faced monstrosity sprawled on the bed behind him, stuffing food down its gullet.

"That's the Yagami boy," Ares bellowed in recognition. "Kira!"

"Yes," Eris admitted, "and his Shinigami."

Realization struck him.

"You didn't_._"

"Maybe I _did_, maybe I _didn't_," Eris said innocently.

"That's not possible, I've been keeping an eye on him..."

Eris's smirk grew wider.

Ares didn't know whether to thank or rage at the grinning vixen. On one hand, if what he guessed was true, the goddess of discord had intentionally thrown the neutrality of Mount Olympus into jeopardy. On the other hand, now he had a legitimate excuse to bestow a personal visit upon the human he so much admired – _Kira…_

Ares was gone in a flash.

* * *

><p>He had just finished locking up the Death Note in his drawer's false bottom when he felt it: a sick chill seeping into his very bones, an alien heat brushing against the back of his neck. His skin prickled with apprehension.<p>

Light Yagami slowly turned around and saw that Ryuk was no longer there.

In his place was a human person –

_No. He can't be human._

"Is this some kind of Shinigami trick, Ryuk? Because I'm not amused."

A cold laugh. "Ryuk is temporarily indisposed."

Sweat broke out on Light's forehead. His _voice _even sounded like –

"I'm hallucinating," Light asserted, blinking rapidly.

"Are you sure about that, Yagami?"

His blood turned to ice. Light stared at the intruder perched on his bed, uncertain of what to do. _Every inch, every angle..._ He didn't have dreams very often, but when he did, they were extremely vivid. Had he somehow fallen asleep during his nightly regimen of writing names in the notebook without noticing it?

"There are gods," Light Yagami's bronze-skinned and golden-eyed doppelgänger purred, "_and then there are gods_."

* * *

><p>Ares silently congratulated himself for his clever thinking. He had the young man sufficiently spooked, giving him an edge right off the bat just as the Olympian had hoped.<p>

Light Yagami glowered at him, suspicion etched into the handsome features that Ares had taken for himself in his new form.

"What – no, _who_ are you?" Light finally asked after scrutinizing the god thoroughly.

"Why, I am who _you_ want to be."

"...Someone who's spent too much time in a tanning salon?" Light managed to say through a thin smile. "No, thank you."

Ares let out a low growl.

"Careful now," he rumbled, "us gods are _very_ quick to take offense. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry, mark my words."

On cue, all the lights in the room flickered and crackled ominously. The Yagami boy paled and took a step back from the writing desk, eyeing his reading lamp uneasily. His face hardened.

"You're a _god, _huh? But you're not a Death God, are you? What do you want with me?"

"Many things, but business first," Ares said crisply. Without warning, he vaulted off the bed, causing Light to bristle and bump backwards into his chair.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you... unless you give me a reason to."

Ares lifted his hand and an image of the elusive Golden Apple of Discord came into view, rippling and shimmering in the air like colored water. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Do you happen to have this little gem in your possession?"

"I don't even know what that is," Light snapped, drinking in every last detail of the shining projection. He squinted at the inscription. "What does it say?"

The image vanished.

"_Kallistē,_" Ares proclaimed in ancient Greek. "Or as you would say, _To the Fairest._"

If eyebrows could jump, Light Yagami's would've made a clean sweep at the Olympics.

"And," Light breathed, "you thought that_ I _would have it?"

Ares nodded, and watched as the boy's face regained its healthy color, transforming his hostile expression to one of the utmost pleasure and curiosity.

"Why's that, I wonder?"

"Why not?" Ares countered. "After all... you _are _Kira. And I? Let's just say that I like you, very, very much."

Light's face registered shock, then triumph. Ares was delighted to note that the young man had enough dignity to not bother pretending to be flattered. "So the gods _are _on my side. I knew it!" he practically crowed. The Japanese youth began pacing in front of the bed, muttering to himself.

_"God of the new world _– _utopia _– _justice _– _destiny _– _mwahahaha!_"

"Where I come from, it's rude to mumble."

Light swung around to face him, his eyes bulging with manic excitement.

"This apple. Is it useful?"

"Well, it's made of solid gold... it's not like there's anything _magical_ about it…"

Light visibly sagged with disappointment, and dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Never mind, then. But tell me, what _exactly _do you like about me? I'm intrigued. And please don't say that I'm just _interesting _or _entertaining._"

Ares had to stifle a guffaw. This mortal, surely, was even vainer than the proud Aphrodite! But he, the god who valued physical valor and power and _ambition_, could understand such arrogance.

"You have all the makings of a great leader. An _astounding _leader, actually. It's been millennia since the gods have seen such potential. You have the heart of a soldier, conviction that knows no bounds and above all, the courage to _act _upon it."

Satisfaction flared in the boy's hungry eyes, bright and hot. Ares saw himself – the bronzed and golden and inhumanly beautiful duplicate of Light Yagami – reflected in those dark pools.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Yagami. You still have much to learn."

The fire dimmed. "Oh?"

"All you are right now is a vigilante with romantic, unrealistic ideals. But to be a _ruler_, you need to be belligerent, aggressive, brazen, _out there,_" Ares declared passionately. "That is, you must rule with an iron fist without the velvet glove. Like me. You have to learn to love the smell of blood, the sound of your enemies falling, crying, begging for their mothers –"

"You're a cynic," Light said mildly, "and a brute to boot."

Ares snarled and thumped his chest. "You're damn right. Takes one to know one, eh?"

Light's eyes glittered with defiance and resolve. "Listen, and listen well. I don't know who you think you are, and I don't know who you think I am, but I'm a visionary. I'm a hero. An _idol. _I will never, and I repeat, _never, _oppress the people of this world. My judgment is fair. They have already begun to deify me, begun to see me as their beloved, almighty god. To terrorize the masses would be repeating the mistakes of the likes of Hitler and Stalin and Zhuo –"

"Tyranny," Ares cut in smoothly, "works for those who know how to wield the sword of authority with artfulness. Does the name Alexander the Great ring any bells?"

"He was assassinated," Light said calmly.

There was a pause.

"You know, there's a term for people like you, a term used by higher powers and forces beyond these walls, and that is _Knight Templar_."

Light's mouth twitched. "I am no such thing!"

"Trust me, we're more alike than you think, Yagami," warned Ares. "Denying it will be your mistake, it will be your downfall. Villains fail when they believe themselves to be the heroes. You must learn to accept and embrace your dark side. It's part of Kira's identity. Kira isn't _good. _Kira is simply the lesser of two evils."

"My _dark_ side?" Light sneered. "Who do you think you are, Darth Vader?"

"Who?"

Light shook in head in exasperation. "Get out. I've had enough of you."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, _get out. _You don't belong here, and you definitely don't have any right telling me what to do."

"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm telling you what you _should _do. There's a difference."

With that, Ares shed his disguise, and Light Yagami's mouth became a gaping hole of astonishment as his eyes raked over the god's true, colossal, battle-hardened and shamelessly naked form.

Ares couldn't help but flash the boy a self-possessed grin.

"Not so cocky now, are we?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Knight Templar is actually a trope used to describe extremist good-doers in the fiction and pop culture. Yep, that's right, I broke the fourth wall.**

**That was a sort of lighthearted, humorous (I hope) tribute to those who advocate Light and "Kira" being two separate entities, or split personalities. While it's an interesting premise that makes for amazing introspective fan fics and art, I wholeheartedly disagree with it. Light and Kira are definitely meant to be one in the same. It. Is. His. DESTINY!**

**What happened to Ryuk during this encounter? Well, you'll find out in due time.**

**The next chapter will feature Matt and Poseidon to mark the second arc :)**


	7. Flow

**A/N:** **Lo and behold the start of the second arc! The italicized section with Ryuk and Ares is the missing sequence from the previous chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

><p><strong>Flow<strong>

* * *

><p><em>"Let me get this straight. You're offering me a DOZEN more of these Grecian babies just to disappear for a little while, and to forget that this ever happened? Why?" Ryuk asked eagerly as he chomped away on the unexpected but incredibly juicy gift. That was <em>twice _this year that someone had popped out of nowhere to surprise him!_

_"I wish to speak with the boy."_

_"But why?"_

_The bulky, humanoid god – "Ares" – gave an impatient and weary sigh, as though the weight of the entire world was upon his shoulders. "I'm on a mission to track down a gold artifact belonging to my sister, Aphrodite. I believe that Kira, he who is the fairest, may know something about it."_

_The Shinigami almost spat out his apple core._

_"Deal!" he rasped, quickly phasing through the window before Ares could change his mind, or worse, figure out the truth._

* * *

><p>Weather in England was particularly unpleasant during the winter. Everything was grey and damp and dull. It was sort of muggy; chilly though not quite freezing, somewhere in the middle. But the depressing weather didn't stop Matt from hitting the road for a brief getaway after Mello's sudden departure.<p>

The boy trudged through the snow-covered sand, churning up a trail of muddy slush. The sleet-tinged wind blew violently through his hair, plastering the wet strands all over his cheeks. But Matt barely noticed it. He only had eyes for the water, the waves that crashed gently against the pale edge of the Weston Shore.

Matt was alone.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the salty air of the out-of-reach Atlantic, the expanse of ocean that stretched all the way to the United States of America, where his best friend was probably already climbing his way up – or crawling his way through – the Underground.

"You're just a kid, Mello. Not even fifteen, yet. What were you thinking?"

Shivering, his voice faltered, and he fumbled through his pockets for his cigs. Three failed attempts and one sputtering flame later, one was lit. The smoke snaked through the cold winter air and instantly turned white, resembling steam. Matt shuffled closer to the water, grateful that nobody was around to tell him off. In the back of his mind, he was already bracing himself to face Roger Ruvie's certain wrath once the teen returned to the House with the caretaker's borrowed car.

His lungs felt tight. The only reason he could stand being out in the open right now was because he'd rather be out _here _than in _there_, where everyone grieving their fallen guardians, two of England's finest, if not the world's.

And now, Mello was as good as gone. Near was sure to follow.

But what of _him_?

The waves lapped at the toes of his worn out sneakers. Matt stared at them, not really seeing. Instead, his mind was filled with his friend's angry face and fierce, tear-ridden eyes as they silently appealed for understanding. Understand, he didn't.

While Number Three had always taken a backseat to his two acquaintances, Matt was able to see everything more objectively than either of them. Immaturity clouded their judgment. It was no ordinary rivalry; the competition dominated their persons and defined their daily lives. It was sad, but it was the only reality that either had ever known.

Even so, Matt just couldn't swallow the fact that Mello had outright refused to work with Near when it most mattered. Mello was so mindbogglingly stupid. His proud defiance was a huge slap in the face to L – not that Matt truly _cared, _but he knew that his friend would come to regret it one day when it was too late, and he was worried that Mello would do something drastic to make up for it.

The wind whistled louder.

Matt smiled grimly as he recalled a story that he had once heard, long ago. Mello had shared it with him in the dark of the night to get him to fall asleep, the tale of three immortal and legendary brothers.

After the trio defeated their cruel father and seized control of the world, they had drawn lots to determine each of their domains. One had ended up with the heavens and another had settled for the earthly realms, leaving the last to get shafted to the despicable, blazing pits of the Underworld.

Zeus. Poseidon. Hades.

The gods of the ancient Greeks.

Unsurprisingly, Mello's favorite one been the Olympian king himself, although Matt secretly thought that Hades was more suiting for the fiery boy. Matt's own vote of preference went to Poseidon, who not only had _wickedawesomesupercool_ powers of water and land manipulation, but also mediated his brothers' squabbles whenever he could. A peacekeeper, caught in the middle both literally and figuratively: the middle ruler, the middle brother.

The part that Matt always went back to was the beginning – the part where the trio had overthrown the Titans _together, _despite their differences_. _That was the part that gave him hope, the hope that Mello and Near would eventually resolve _their_ differences and fulfill what they were meant to do.

At Wammy's, Near, Mello and Matt were all big fish in a small pond. But the tides were changing, and once Near made his move, Matt would have no choice but to do _something – _he just didn't know _what_ yet – in order to keep the balance. They were incomplete without him, whether they knew it or not.

Matt exhaled around the soggy, limp mess that was his cigarette. The sleet was falling harder now. He turned to leave, his head full of ponderings and memories.

There would be no harmony without the third, no ebb without the flow.

This became very clear over the next four years' lack of progress. Matt had extended a hand to Near, which he had graciously accepted. They worked alongside for a while, Numbers One and Three, gleaning information from the NPA's secured files and working – ahem, hacking – their way up from there. Once Near had gathered enough data to approach the President of the United States, he politely lost interest in Matt. Matt didn't really care, though. The SPK wasn't his style, anyway.

Mello, the other end of the spectrum, became his priority.

Matt had a hard time tracking down his friend. Mello had left no electronic trail, no paper trail, nothing for him to pick up on. But he persisted. He returned to Wammy's, accompanying Roger while he worked. Still, nothing. Mello was either dead, or very good at hiding. The latter, most likely.

He didn't give up. He had a job to do.

Matt ploughed on like a typhoon without mercy. Wherever the ravaged path may lead, whether he would sink or swim, he would just have to trust in the flow. _Go _with the flow.

And if he ever reached his destination – _once_ he reached his destination – Matt would just have to convince Mello to see things his way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Anyone who's taken music or music theory would recognize that "the third" also refers to the pivotal interval in a chord that ultimately determines whether it produces a major or minor (*cough cough* piano-dropout-one-level-before-teaching-license here). Hence, harmony ^_^**

**Poseidon doesn't really have a distinguishable personality or a set of core values in Greek mythology other than how he swings between calm and stormy, so it made more sense to write from Matt's perspective. I hope his narration was a pleasant surprise!**

**Next chapter will star Demeter and Soichiro :)**


	8. Parent

**A/N:** Some myths say that Persephone stays with Hades four months a year; others say six because of the varying number of pomegranate seeds she ate. I've picked six because it's more balanced. Also, this chapter's written in third person omniscient, which is a little weird and new to me, but I'm working on it!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

* * *

><p><strong>Parent<strong>

* * *

><p>The third worst kind of suffering was loneliness.<p>

It was ironic that she should be charged with the guardianship of marriage when she had never experienced it firsthand. Demeter knew she could have almost anyone she wanted; it was no secret that Poseidon lusted after her, as did Zeus. But sex did nothing to ease the cold hollowness inside her heart.

So instead, the goddess found solace from her solitude in her duties, one of which was to preside over natural law. It was Demeter's job to help foster "righteousness" – which had nothing to do with man-made rules and everything to do with universal virtues – inside humans, taking the form of moral compasses. This was what set her apart from her niece, Athena, who often advocated justice at the expense of basic ethics.

Another one of her responsibilities was to oversee the harvests. Agriculture had always been Demeter's main calling. Like maternal instinct, it was ingrained in her to nurture the Earth's gifts. In place of a wedding band, the goddess sported a cornucopia, a horn accessory filled with flowers and other plants. In that sense, one could say she was married to her job.

Good-doers and breadwinners, whether god or mortal, tended to fall into the same trap.

Soichiro Yagami was one of them. As the chief of police, he spent more time at the office or out on the field than at home. Such was the nature of crime-fighting and law enforcement. It required him to go above and beyond the call of duty, so that was precisely what he did. It wasn't easy going home to a cooked meal and a warm bed when there were so many bad guys left to catch, nor was it easy going off to catch these bad guys when there was a cooked meal and warm bed waiting for him at home.

When Kira happened, Soichiro became more isolated than ever.

There were times that he was worried that Sachiko would leave him. His wife had made it clear to him many times that she disapproved of his habit to put work before his health, let alone his family. But to Soichiro, it wasn't a habit. It was his choice, just like it was his choice to imprison himself alongside his son until Light's name was cleared by L.

The fifty-day incarceration was his longest ever absence from his home and family, and it was, without a doubt, one of the most painful ordeals Soichiro had ever endured. Even with Watari bringing him food every few hours and the team keeping him up to date with the news, the man felt like he was stuck in a bottomless pit, trapped by his own despair. And when he wasn't busy torturing himself with speculation, Soichiro was busy aching for Sachiko's gentle smiles and comforting, weathered fingers. He was alone, and she was far out of reach.

Nothing could fill the void that Soichiro had created himself.

* * *

><p>The second worst kind of suffering was guilt.<p>

Demeter couldn't remember the last time she felt true happiness. Ever since her brother Hades abducted Persephone and laid claim to her soul for half the year, _every_ year, the forsaken mother had constantly been plagued with anguish and shame over her failure to protect her daughter.

Although Persephone was reportedly well-treated in the Underworld, Demeter couldn't bear being powerless to save her daughter. And even when Persephone _was_ with her during their precious allotted time, the goddess still grieved in secret.

She could never fully enjoy their reunions, not when she knew each day that passed was another day gone, a day closer to the next time her daughter was forced from her side, a day closer to worrying and missing Persephone so much that it hurt.

To lose someone as innocent and dear as one's child to Hell itself had to be every parent's nightmare.

For Soichiro Yagami, it was a nightmare that was all too real.

Exchanging the notebook for Sayu was a no-brainer. Mello promised him that no harm would befall her, and Soichiro absolutely clung onto that tiny shred of hope for the next two days. As the Mafia's plans marched forward, the wait nearly killed him, and when Soichiro finally stepped off the plane to enter the lion's den, it was all the man could do not to run straight into the darkness.

The good news was that Mello had kept his word, and Soichiro's sacrifice of the most terrible weapon on Earth for his daughter's safety ended up paying off.

The bad news was that the girl that was returned to him was Sayu Yagami no longer.

She had survived, but so had the trauma and shock. Soichiro's daughter had become little more than a stuffed doll, or a corpse. An eternal victim. While she retained her delicate beauty, it was clear to her family that Sayu was partially in Death's grasp. She was confined to a wheelchair, unresponsive to her surroundings.

Every day, Soichiro watched Sayu slip from reality, from him and Sachiko and Light.

Still haunted by the dilemma, Soichiro could barely live with himself. He had jeopardized the entire world for a single person. He didn't deserve to be a police officer anymore. Neither did he deserve to be a parent. It was his fault Sayu was like this, and he was painfully aware of the possibility that they would never _really_ get her back.

Ever.

* * *

><p>The worst kind of suffering was fear.<p>

The truth was that Persephone didn't really mind being Hades wife. In fact, she looked forward to returning to the Underworld, ruling by her husband's side. Down there, she was Queen. On Mount Olympus, she was just another one of Demeter's children.

Demeter knew this, and she was scared. The Olympian was afraid that her firstborn daughter would eventually turn her back on her, abandon her, and then become as corrupted as Hades. It would be the ultimate betrayal, and Demeter was certain that she would not be able to withstand the pain of heartbreak. The possibility of it happening was all too dreadful, all too real.

Paranoia had an iron grip on her, and it wouldn't let go. Living in fear was like being a ticking bomb, set to explode into madness at any given time.

It was a feeling that Soichiro Yagami was all too familiar with.

The terror hadn't stopped with the notebook exchange. Not even close. Mello constantly called to extort information from him about the NPA and the Task Force. When he wanted to know who the current L was, Matsuda, ever the brave and reckless soul, offered him his name to throw him off Light's scent.

In contrast, Soichiro felt incompetent and cowardly. He began to seriously contemplate resignation. From his job, from his life, everything. Suicide seemed to be the only answer. To finally give up and leave all his troubles behind.

Then the Shinigami appeared, and he got his chance.

Half of his remaining lifespan for an invaluable tool. It was totally worth it.

When Soichiro found himself face to face with Mello, he was surprised to discover that he wasn't frightened at all by the man – the _boy_ – that had orchestrated his daughter's kidnapping. Mello wasn't to blame for the notebook's existence and the evil that now permeated society masquerading as good, he realized.

It was the Shinigami.

Death personified.

On his deathbed, Soichiro recalled his fifty-day confinement. He recalled being tormented by the wildly imagined scenarios of murder-suicide honor killings, of going insane, of his family being torn apart on the ridiculous off chance that his eldest child was Kira. He recalled the uncertainty, the horror of the unknown. He recalled the sick doubt that twisted and poisoned his insides, burning through him like acid.

Soichiro never forgot that L, _L_, _the _L, had once believed his son to be Kira. The stigma of the accusation still lingered, like a vengeful ghost. So it was as if a dam had burst when Soichiro confirmed, with his very own Eyes, that it wasn't actually true.

Light was innocent.

And although he couldn't say goodbye to his wife and daughter, Soichiro died happy.

Because only in death could one truly escape from suffering.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There will be an interlude next chapter****, to lighten the mood and to deal with the 5 year time skip from the gods' perspectives****.**

**Till next time ^_^**


	9. Interlude: Eris Drops a Hint

**A/N: **I'd never thought I'd be one of those authors who'd abandon their fics, but it nearly happened with this one, due to a lack of time and inspiration. So at long last, here is the interlude that I promised last time to explain the five year time skip between L's death and the Mello/Near arc. No promises as to when the next update will be – I am in my final year of university and it's consuming my life, but in the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this one!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

* * *

><p><strong>Interlude: Eris Drops a Hint<strong>

* * *

><p>In the five years that the human world became more entangled in Kira's grasp, most of the gods and goddesses forgot about the missing Golden Apple. After a few more half-hearted attempts at fruitless searching, they went back to eating and drinking and having big giant orgies (okay, not really) every night.<p>

But Eris didn't forget, and neither did Aphrodite.

Eris had been released from imprisonment when Zeus relented after Athena deemed the sentence too severe for the crime. Eris rather thought that Athena was secretly pleased about Aphrodite's lost prize.

"What do you take me for, an impudent child?" Athena sniffed when Eris shared her theory with the other goddess.

Now, Eris was growing bored in her mountain perch, where her scrying mirrors showed the same thing day after day – Ryuk, always trailing behind Light Yagami like an obedient puppy. Unfortunately, Eris was unable to visit the human world. Only the twelve Olympians had that power and privilege.

And so for years the goddess of chaos continued to yearn and pine for Ryuk's affection, hoping that the Shinigami would one day connect the dots and pay a visit to Mount Olympus himself.

Aphrodite, on the other hand, wouldn't stop moping. She was too soft-hearted to carry through with her threats of eradicating the human race via bestiality. True, her pathetically devoted husband Hephaestus had crafted Aphrodite a solid gold replacement, but it just wasn't the same. The only trophies worth having were the ones touched by time. Sentimental, yes, but no random chunk of gold was going to take the place of one that had lasted several millennia.

On the fifth anniversary of Eris's prank, Eris asked Aphrodite to call a meeting.

"Why should I do you any favours?" Aphrodite sneered.

Eris cocked a brow. "The favour is mine to give."

"How so?"

"What if I told you that your precious Apple is in the eastern lands?"

Aphrodite's eyes widened hopefully. "You'll have to be more specific," she demanded.

Eris smirked. "_Japan."_

That night, when the full moon bathed Mount Olympus in silver light, the Olympians, minus Zeus and Hera, gathered in the Classical Court once again to discuss the missing Golden Apple. It was evident that most of them were reluctant to volunteer their services again.

"Fine," Aphrodite declared. "I _will _go down there myself."

"You can't," Dionysus said nervously. "After all, we can't interfere with the Kira affair."

Eris gave him a crafty smile. "Who said anything about Kira?"

"You mentioned Japan_. _Knowing you, you can't mean anything else,_" _Athena said shrewdly. "I won't stand for it. This quest is not my responsibility, nor is it the rest of ours."

Artemis cleared her throat, and everyone fell silent. The huntress's eyes seemed to gleam with the force and brilliance of the full moon itself as her gaze swept over her brothers and sisters. "There is no reason why we cannot end this silly squabble once and for all. Eris will continue to hold this over Aphrodite's head, and clearly, she does not have the maturity to move on. Neither does she have the ability to do things efficiently and effectively. In the end, we will only be prolonging our own suffering with Aphrodite's incessant whining."

"Hey!"

"If, by _interference, _you mean changing the outcome of the Kira affair, that can easily be avoided," Apollo added, nodding at his twin sister while internally cursing his hellish competitive nature. Yet, he would never forgive himself if he sat around and let his sister win the bragging rights. "We won't reveal ourselves to anybody, no matter how tempting it is, nor will we be giving either side an unfair advantage."

"Not picking sides? That would be a miracle," Ares snorted.

Hephaestus hobbled forward. "I will accompany you to the mortal realm to aid in this search."

Aphrodite scoffed at this, turning up her dainty nose in contempt, as she always did when it came to her husband's lame attempts to please her. "As if you're going to be of any help. I'm going down there myself. Artemis, Apollo, you're welcome to join me."

"It's not like we're exactly dying to do so," Apollo said, bristling at Aphrodite's condescension.

"Indeed, brother. It is more accurate to say that we have no choice if we want to put an end to your constant bleating."

Aphrodite pouted at the twins' insolence. How rude!

Hephaestus, however, smiled gratefully at Artemis and Apollo. "Thank you. Let us begin our search anew. I have a good feeling about this. Anybody else up for the challenge?"

The rest of the Olympians muttered their excuses and quickly dispersed.

Aphrodite was indignant. "_Well, _then!" the goddess exclaimed in her shrill voice.

"I don't blame them," Apollo muttered, and Artemis had to hide her smile.

"Why, Apollo, this can actually be quite fun."

Apollo perked up at the playful note of determination in Artemis's voice. "And what exactly are you proposing, my dear sister?"

"A race to the end, my dear brother."


	10. Devotion

**A/N: **Woo, a rare update! I can tell you that the next chapter will feature Mello and Apollo, but I can't tell you when it'll be actually written. Blame my essays.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note.

* * *

><p><strong>Devotion <strong>

* * *

><p>Teru Mikami was a man of routine. His days and nights held no room for variables, and neither did his work. Mikami took on cases that allowed him the freedom to tackle them in his own time and tried very hard not to turn away clients who had the audacity to think that just because they were paying him, he was theirs to utterly command.<p>

Mikami served nobody but society.

Ironically, his social life was virtually non-existent. He needed a notice of at least three days in advance if an acquaintance wanted to catch up over dinner. Mikami despised last-minute plans, and as an extension, last-minute planners. Although Mikami often cited his busy schedule and work load, the real reason he always declined spontaneous invitations to "go grab a coffee later" or "catch a movie tonight" was because he needed time to wrap his mind around the fact that he would be expected to socialize – mindlessly interacting with people he didn't really care about for a small amount of what normally constituted as pleasure. It was a waste of time, and pretending to like it was exhausting. He preferred sticking to the gym every night – gym, shower, work, sleep.

His partners at the firm thought him a loner. They were not entirely wrong, but Mikami preferred the term _independent. _He was self-reliant; he always had been, ever since his pathetic mother betrayed him by discouraging his troublesome bravery in school hallways. There was nobody else worth his trust, nobody worth his respect, nobody worth another heartbreak.

Then Kira happened.

Hitoshi Demegawa, Mikami had to admit, had been a key player in turning the tide of public opinion. Those who used to hide their admiration for Kira were no longer scorned and could now openly congregate with other Kira supporters without fear of police intervention. Yet, despite all his contributions to the Kira revolution, Demegawa was just a fame-hungry mouthpiece. Mikami wanted to be more than that; he wanted to go above and beyond "Kira's Kingdom" and other televised appearances.

He wanted to rule at Kira's side, or at Kira's feet. Whichever Kira desired, and whatever Kira wanted, Mikami would give. Kira was justice; Kira was everything Mikami wanted to be.

Mikami, impassioned with joy in discovering a potential kindred spirit, suddenly found himself breaking his own patterns. Gone were the days of cooking and eating dinner during the six-o'clock news. Day or night, and regardless of his own schedule, Mikami began taking new bus routes and lurking in public spaces where Kira's supporters held demonstrations loosely organized on social networking websites and where the media swarmed in droves.

He stayed up late past his regular bed time until he was able to secure tickets to well-known talk shows. He spoke up whenever the hosts opened the floor to the audience members, fully aware of how much the cameras loved his sharp, handsome features and austere voice. In contrast with teenagers sporting "I Heart Kira" t-shirts and college student activists who had larger voices and egos than life experiences, Mikami was every bit the educated and successful career man, and more importantly, a criminal prosecutor, and all of that lent credibility to his convictions and words.

When his wish finally came true, when the notebook came to him, his obsession became complete.

There _was _one other he would willingly serve.

* * *

><p>It was the 25th of January, and that meant a visit to the bank, as per the norm. Mikami's suit was pressed, his glasses were clean, and all was well.<p>

Or perhaps not. Mikami's breath caught in his throat the moment he entered the lineup. There, behind the bank tellers' counter, was a young man he had never seen before. It was possible that he was a new employee, save for the fact that Mikami _could not see his name or lifespan._

_God?_

Sweat gathered on the back of Mikami's neck. It had to be God. But why was he exposing himself to Mikami in public like this? Was he to be punished for some reason? Was there a change of plans? Uncertainty flooded his mind, leaving his mouth dry and ears buzzing, and for the first time in years, Mikami felt fight-or-flight panic set in. But there were no bullies, no men who preyed on the weak or turned their back on their own.

Mikami's sharp eyes flitted around the room, seeking out hidden cameras or other signs that he was walking into a trap engineered by Kira's enemies. Finally, he allowed his gaze to settle on the man in front of him. God was looking straight at him, beckoning him forward. He was smiling, and it was a gentle smile.

"Next!" said God. Mikami felt like his legs were made of jelly.

* * *

><p>Hephaestus was fully aware of the fact that Mikami had the Shinigami Eyes, and it was a fact that he was going to use to his advantage if he wanted to get into Mikami's safety deposit box. For all his talents with metal and smithing, the disguised Olympian could not get around the electronic keypads that guarded each box. Damn mortals and their technological innovations.<p>

He wordlessly guided Mikami into the bank vault as the man had requested, where another customer was rummaging through their possessions. Hephaestus caught a glimpse of bright yellow envelopes and inwardly scoffed. He could understand wanting to protect jewels and heirlooms, but paper?

Mikami coughed and Hephaestus turned his attention to the man, who was clutching a leather binder that he had retrieved from his deposit box.

"Could you get us a private viewing room, please?" Mikami's voice was hoarse and full of mistaken reverence.

The private viewing room was small. It had plain white walls, two chairs, a desk, and most importantly, no cameras. Mikami locked the door behind him.

"God?" Mikami murmured, not without some hesitation.

"That I am," said Hephaestus. Technically, it was not a lie.

Mikami immediately fell to his knees in front of the disguised Greek god. "It is an honour to finally meet you, though I am not worthy to be in your presence," Mikami said passionately, his eyes blazing with the force of his devotion. Hephaestus could have bet all the pearls in the Red Sea that Mikami would have showered his shoes with kisses if the Olympian had not bashfully stepped back.

Hephaestus felt embarrassed for the mortal. Little did Teru Mikami know that the real Kira was a mere man, barely more than a boy. Yet Mikami had already made up his mind to worship him with all his entirety. It was so wrong, so shameless, and it made the god's blood boil to see a man of Mikami's prestige to throw everything away for an arrogant child with a magical toy.

And yet, Hephaestus was guilty of the same fault. He was just unable to recognize it in himself.

When he was born, his mother Hera grew so ashamed of his ugly face that she literally tossed him aside – off the Mountain – thus crippling him physically and emotionally for the ages to come. No amount of magic could remove the pain inside, so Hephaestus had never bothered to fix his injury with magic. His limp was a welcome reminder of his hatred for his mother.

And so Hephaestus grew up in exile, starved for affection. He spent his days in the forges perfecting his craft and plotting his revenge against his mother and all those who wronged him by standing aside in their apathy. When that day finally came, when he finally earned his place among the Olympians, Hephaestus swore that he would also earn their love. Without it, his victory was meaningless.

Except that it was difficult to distinguish between love and pity.

No love was better than bad love, yet Hephaestus could not help but dedicate every particle of his existence to his wife, the ironically heartless Aphrodite. The god-smith worked with precious metals and gems daily, but the goddess of beauty was the only treasure on Mount Olympus worth having. Hephaestus had even built a palace for her as a wedding gift. Aphrodite constantly called him names, and _needy bastard _was one of them. Hephaestus preferred _romantic. _

And others would say that he was hopelessly, helplessly, blindly devoted.

"I would like to take a look at your cache," said Hephaestus, and Mikami practically shoved the leather binder into his arms.

"Yes, God!"

Hephaestus undid the buckle and cracked the binder open. A Shinigami's notebook lay inside, along with a gold pen, mocking him with its shine. He closed it, disappointed.

"Is this all you keep in your vault?"

"Yes, God."

"Do you have any others?"

"No. I have nothing of value other than the gift you bestowed upon me, God. I own no earthly possessions worth protecting," Mikami replied in earnest.

His frustration must have shown on his face, for Mikami suddenly froze, his eyes filled with anxiety. "What is it? Have I displeased you, God?"

"Not at all." Looking into Mikami's wretchedly eager face unsettled him, so Hephaestus decided to end the charade right there and then.

"Thank you for your service, mortal. Be well."

"Wait, God –"

Mikami made a motion to grab a handful of Hephaestus's shirt, only there wasn't anything left to grab onto. He had disappeared into thin air – but not before the ugly, unloved god caught sight of the most adoring gaze he had ever been given in his entire immortal life.


	11. Shine

**A/N: **Aside from my upcoming exams, I'm finally done my fourth and final year. So here, have an update :)

**Disclaimer: **This is just a fan fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Shine<strong>

* * *

><p>In the eyes of the gods, mortals were like candles. They burned briefly but brightly, and were only as good as the time they were given.<p>

Most of them, anyway.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Mihael Keehl's flame was extinguished. The huntress had noticed this boy's death as one would notice if all the lights went out in a city that did not sleep; Mihael's wick, which was meant to burn longer than the average man's, had reached a premature end. More than anything she was curious, so Artemis took it upon herself to track him down.

* * *

><p>The already-broken rafters of the abandoned church groaned as the flames reached higher and higher, raining stones and smoking wooden chips all around them. Mello's gun lay discarded on the ground, its gleaming shells and a discarded towel evidence of Kiyomi Takada's hand in this inferno.<p>

Artemis found Kira's so-called goddess in the heart of this hellhole. The woman's skin was a mess of red and purple, like a chunk of raw meat. If it were not for the Death Note, Artemis's twin brother would have the skills to heal this body, to restore Takada's corpse to its famous marble-like beauty, but Artemis knew that was not to be. Takada's hellish demise had been written in a Death Note, and thus, it could not be reversed.

Mihael, on the other hand, was spared that particular misfortune. The moon-goddess found Mello crumpled over the steering wheel of a transport truck, the boy's unseeing eyes wide but clouded like fog over ice, the bright spark within them forever snuffed out. The goddess gently closed his eyelids, then heaved Mihael's corpse out of the seat, slinging him over a shoulder.

Artemis would not let this child burn in death as he did in life.

Most of Mello's existence could easily be summarized by his volatile relationship with Near. It was a remarkable one with both hatred and mutual respect at its core. L had been their god, and living up to his legacy was the goal of all the children living under his roof, constantly stewing in jealousy that could only be matched by that of passionate lovers or blood siblings. Artemis was no stranger to such rivalry.

When they were children, the Olympian twins bonded over their shared love of archery. But as they grew older and as their roles grew more defined, Apollo became jealous of Artemis's natural and superior talent. Artemis could hit her marks without fail as a huntress should, and she was universally praised for it. She was perfect. Meanwhile, the talents of Apollo, who was the primary god of archery, often went unnoticed.

Thus, where Artemis poked, Apollo angrily prodded back with the force of a thousand arrows. This race for Aphrodite's missing trinket was nothing compared to what they had done in the past.

While the twins now normally kept their distance from each other, they could never resist the pull of besting the other, which often ended in disaster, even bloodshed. One such incident was the untimely death of her hunting partner, Orion, who had been unwittingly killed by Artemis's own bow; Apollo, incensed by the lad's attention towards Artemis, had tricked the goddess into thinking Orion was someone else fleeing the scene of a fabricated rape.

Yet, despite his transgressions against her, Artemis always found it in her heart to forgive her brother. She liked to think that their competition had once been and could still be friendly, but with the sun-god's hot temper, she knew that sentiment could never be reciprocated.

Competition cost sweat and tears and blood. Mello's own rivalry with Near had escalated from books and test scores to espionage and body counts. Playing within the rules no longer served his purposes; Mello had been consumed with a rage that could only be harnessed alongside the Mafia and satiated by fighting dirty. Mello had one-upped Near by killing off the majority of Near's precious Kira-hunting group, causing Near to acknowledge that not even he was infallible.

To his credit, Mello could fix as much chaos as he could cause, which was why Near had never really lost faith in Mello, despite all his betrayals.

Mello was like the sun, capable of both feeding flowers and turning entire forests into ashes, in the same way Apollo could bring plagues upon a nation with his arrows and heal them in the next breath if the god so wished. Mello was the disease _and _the cure – he had pitted crime against crime, fire against fire, crawling his way through the underworld where the sun did not belong, until it had all exploded in his face like a collapsing star, leaving behind nought but a humbling scar. Still, that did not deter Mello from pushing on till death itself.

Mihael was the embodiment of all that Apollo treasured in a boy: his creative prowess, his physical talents, and above all, his relentless pursuit of the truth. In another life, the sun-god would have immortalized this bright youth in song and poem, as Artemis had done with Orion in the stars ages ago.

Once outside the burning church, Artemis placed Mello in the shade of the nearby trees and smoothed back his golden hair. Near's comrades in the SPK would find Mello's corpse, his youth and wild beauty mercifully preserved, and Near would have him buried in Winchester, England, next to their surrogate father. Although his flame had gone out, Mello could still guide Near out of the darkness.

Two days later, Kira would become nothing but a memory. Two days later, Near would shine only because Mello had blazed the trail for Gevanni, the same way the moon only shone once the sun had set, as a pale and small substitute.

But one must also remember that it was the moon, not the sun, that commanded the tides.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I thought it might be better to mix things up a bit by having Artemis narrate Mello vs Apollo instead, especially with all those heavy similes and metaphors flying around.

Up next will be Near!


	12. Play

**A/N: **Artemis – the goddess of children, virginity, hunting, and the moon. You all probably already knew that though!

But what I recently discovered was that Artemis's name translates to "high source of water" (ie the moon has control over the oceans/seas), which is incredibly cool because Nate _**River**__, _and last chapter's mention of tides_. _However, I had no idea how to work that into this chapter, so there you have it. Yay, trivia.

**Disclaimer: **This is just a fan fic.

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><p><strong>Play<strong>

* * *

><p>Nate River could entertain himself with as many toy trucks and action figures as he pleased, but the fact remained that he was and never had been a real little boy.<p>

Little boys cried when they were sad. Little boys sported bloody noses and threw tantrums and teased girls and knew nothing of the world except for its games and amusements. Little boys had guardians who grounded them when they were naughty and rewarded them with candy when they were good.

Near arrived at Wammy's when he was three, and learned how the solar system worked within a month. At eight, he took in the subjects of drugs and rape and terrorism without even batting an eye. At ten, he solved cold cases for fun while children his age had to beg their parents for twenty minutes on dial-up Internet. Near was never naughty, but his cold and brilliant mind, absorbing the corruptions of the world, had long lost its innocence.

Innocence had always been a bizarre concept to Near. On one hand, it meant naivety, and on the other, it meant guiltlessness from any wrongdoing. For some reason, people also loved to equate it with sexual inexperience, with silly notions of chastity. Therefore, to some people, Near still appeared to be a little boy.

But in truth, he had grown up faster than them all.

* * *

><p>Near could dress himself with as much white as he pleased, but the fact remained that he was neither completely innocent nor pure. He had blood on his hands, probably just as much as Mello did.<p>

Near was a natural hunter, and he would be lying if he said he did not enjoy the game.

The truth was his white stag, and Near pursued it like a dog. Light Yagami had been the prey that nobody but Near could catch. The hunt made Near feel alive when there was so much death around him. It made him feel powerful, even invincible; the only _pure_ Near knew was the adrenaline rush that accompanied his successes.

But as always, when the hunt came to an end, Near was left with corpses he did not want. He was in it for the chase, not the prize. Without cases to solve, he would have nothing to live for. The new L would have no reason to exist.

* * *

><p>Near could surround himself with as many people – <em>colleagues<em> – as he pleased, but the fact remained that he was lonely. Commander Rester and Lidner and Gevanni were on his payroll, and now that Kira was defeated, the SPK would be formally disbanded on Near's own terms. Mello, his only voluntary visitor, was gone.

Near had nobody else he could call a friend.

Everyone had gravitated around Mello like he was the sun, instinctively drawn by his relentless energy. People actually liked Mello. They feared him, yes, but they also admired his grace and charm. Mello had been every bit the dashing rogue, and Near was just a pale reflection of that, profiting from the path that his rival had blazed for him quite literally.

The sun had disappeared, and the moon could not shine properly without the sun. And like the moon, Near was anchored and given purpose by things bigger than himself.

Yet, L was always meant to play in the shadows. So perhaps it was a good thing Near preferred the dark.

* * *

><p><em>L,<em> _do you know Shinigami love apples? _

The sun-god peered over the FBI agent's shoulder to read the acrostic poem properly. The mortal named Stephen Gevanni was shredding all of the evidence pertaining to the Kira investigation, all the while grumbling to himself, clearly unhappy with being assigned the grunt work.

So, Shinigami loved apples. The coded message had obviously been designed to fray L's nerves, but the ingenuity of it lay in its truthfulness.

Eris's hint had led Apollo to search every crook and cranny of Near's squeaky clean headquarters, but he had found nothing. If the god had to take one last shot, he would place his bet on the Shinigami, Ryuk.

It had started with the Shinigami, and it would end with the Shinigami.

Because Shinigami _loved_ apples.

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><p><strong>AN: **Short chapter because Near is all about simplicity. The next one will be the final chapter before the epilogue, and it'll feature none other than Aphrodite and Misa! I'll try my hand at some open interaction, like the Ares vs Light chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Want

**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait! I've had a busy month. Graduation and job interviews really sucked up my time and energy. Well, this is the penultimate chapter, and I hope it will not disappoint!

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><p><strong>Want<strong>

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><p>Unsurprisingly, Aphrodite found Misa at Light's grave the day after his funeral.<p>

The former starlet was an utter mess. Her carefully bleached hair was unwashed and stringy, and her black dress smelled of sweat. Misa, who normally glowed even when she was barefaced, looked like blood no longer ran through her veins. Although she was still pretty, the visual shock of Misa's poor physical state was enough to give Medusa a run for her money.

While she was repulsed, Aphrodite could not fault the mortal. The light had quite literally gone out of Misa's world. What was the point of being beautiful when one felt dead on the inside?

At that moment, the goddess wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Misa, who had never known what unconditional love was. Light did not deserve Misa's devotion, especially not after death. Love was not sleeping around with Kiyomi Takada and justifying it by saying it was a part of his investigation. Love was not slapping Misa's hands away whenever she affectionately fixed his tie. Love was not cold silences, condescending conversations, or lonely nights.

Misa Amane glanced up when she heard the soft footsteps, instantly irritated. Misa had gotten up early in hopes of avoiding the paparazzi. It didn't help that the new visitor was gorgeous, either.

Out of instinct, Misa took a step closer to the plot of overturned soil, subconsciously blocking Light from the other woman as she had done so many times before. This woman had not attended Light's funeral. Who the hell was she, and why was she here? Those questions tumbled from Misa's mouth before she could stop herself.

Aphrodite hid a smile. Misa's face was threatening to break into a pout, and for a moment, the goddess could detect the old Misa, full of fire and passion.

"Relax. I'm a friend, Miss Amane," Aphrodite said as soothingly as possible.

The woman's voice was as beautiful as her face, and Misa wavered. "I don't know you."

"But I know _you_."

"Of course you do. I'm famous," Misa murmured.

Misa's comeback could not have been timed worse. More than ever, the cameras adored her for her still-cute face and her still-sweet voice; her fans studied and loved her old and new characters, her songs, and her fashion sense. Magazines still talked about the tragedy with her parents. The world fawned after her because she was an idol, not because she had one of the biggest hearts the world would ever see.

Nobody knew the real Misa Amane, but for good reason: only Light Yagami and arguably, the Japanese Task Force, had truly seen that side of Misa Amane.

The sad truth was that Aphrodite knew more about Misa than Misa knew about herself. The young woman had had her memories wiped twice, leaving Misa with a warped reality with a false past. As far as she knew, the Second Kira was still out there, and her soul mate had died a hero, and Kira, her former champion, had murdered him. Aphrodite also knew about the two Shinigami who had died for Misa, who would always be none the wiser.

Misa's beauty was fatal; it was the kind that could launch a thousand ships. Beauty that could change fates and kill gods was both a blessing and a curse.

Aphrodite was all too familiar with the pitfalls of being beautiful. It was the reason Zeus forced her into a loveless marriage with the hideous Hephaestus in an attempt to stop the other gods from fighting over her. It was the reason she was superficial herself, only taking lovers that were as physically exquisite as she was. Anything else was underneath her. She knew in her heart that it was vain, but her godly nature simply did not permit her to ignore aesthetics.

"I'm famous too," Aphrodite replied, giving Misa a reassuring smile.

"Everyone's famous these days," Misa muttered. "Are you a model?"

"I'm an idol, like you."

Misa squinted her eyes. "Where are you from?"

"Cyprus."

"And why are you in Japan?"

"I heard about your fiancé's death on the news, and I thought that you would want some company. I know what it is like to lose... half of yourself," said Aphrodite.

Misa's eyes brightened a little, and her cheeks seemed to regain some colour. "Would you like to come over for tea?"

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><p>While Misa tinkered around in the kitchen, Aphrodite took the liberty of wandering around the mortal's abode. The apartment was furnished with modern minimalist furniture, a far cry from the Gothic style that Aphrodite knew Misa favoured.<p>

A framed photo of Light and Misa sat atop a hall dresser, and Aphrodite stopped to study it. Both of them were flashing their pearly whites, but only Misa's held any real warmth.

Objectively, Misa and Light had been evenly matched in the appearances department. Aphrodite had often seen couples fall apart simply because the more beautiful one decided they could do better, or because the less beautiful one felt threatened by their more beautiful partner. But obviously, looks were not enough to sustain a relationship. Commitment was the next step, and it was a step that Misa had taken alone, whether she knew it or not.

Aphrodite felt a deep pity for the girl. Both Misa and Light had had no shortages of admirers or self-confidence. The crucial difference was that Misa never used her beauty for malicious purposes – the undercover mission with Yotsuba Corporation was nothing but honourable – while Light had wielded his like a tool. To think of all those girls who fell for his sharp figure and even sharper cheekbones, only to be tossed away after their roles were fulfilled...

Had Light not been handsome, Aphrodite was certain, he would have failed to charm all those around him into believing his innocence. After all, humans were most easily convinced that those who were beautiful on the outside were also beautiful on the inside.

Light Yagami was certainly one of the most handsome mortals she had ever seen, but Aphrodite was certain that she never would have found joy in taking _him_ as a lover. Light had probably been really selfish in bed.

Aphrodite stepped away from the dresser and moved further down the hall to where the bedrooms were situated. They had slept separately, Aphrodite noted with a sigh.

Misa's room was messier than the rest of the apartment. The closet door was wide open, revealing clothes that were neither colour-coordinated nor folded well. Necklaces and bracelets spilled out of the jewellery box on Misa's vanity table. A gold, rounded surface caught Aphrodite's eyes, and the goddess was at the table in an instant.

Aphrodite held her breath and plunged her hand into the box. She shook the aside the many trinkets and pulled out... a gold watch.

"Mother of Zeus," Aphrodite swore.

"You won't find it here."

Aphrodite almost gasped out loud. She whipped around to find Apollo smirking at her from the corner of Misa's bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" Aphrodite snapped.

"Watching you fail miserably in your attempts to find the Apple. It's almost as entertaining as watching my sister." The sun-god's smile almost blinded her. "I'm here to tell you that the race is over."

Aphrodite's heart leapt with hope. "You mean you've found it?"

"It's only a hunch," Apollo admitted, "but I'll need your help entering the Shinigami Realm."

Aphrodite wrinkled her nose. The dark and stagnant Shinigami Realm was no place for the goddess of love and beauty. She was certain it would be as hateful as the Underworld, where she had visited several times before to retrieve her favourite lover, Adonis. Yet, if she was brave enough to that, surely a little dust and some dice-rolling, four-eyed monsters would not be a problem.

"Lead the way, little brother."

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><p>"The tea is ready! Please, come sit down."<p>

There was no response. Misa waited for a minute before going into the hall to check on her guest.

The woman's shoes were gone.

Disappointed and stunned, Misa glanced down at the tea tray that she had prepared for two. Her hands trembled, rattling the cups. She was certain she did not hear the door open or close, and she was certain that the lady had genuinely been concerned about her.

But she was less certain that she had not hallucinated the entire thing.


	14. Epilogue: What Begins with An Apple

**A/N: **Final chapter! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with it till the end. Also, note that 'illeism' is the act of referring to yourself in third-person.

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><p><strong>Epilogue: What Begins With an Apple Ends With More Apples<strong>

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><p>The Shinigami Realm was a desolate place. With every step that Aphrodite took, her disdain for the dark and gloomy dump grew.<p>

The bulbous Shinigami King sat on a massive throne of bones and crafted iron. Aphrodite took a closer look at what she thought were rubies embedded in the chair's skeletal frame and shivered when she realized that they were eyes – discarded Shinigami Eyes.

"How barbaric," Aphrodite stage-whispered, tightening her grip on Apollo's arm.

A nasty smile split the skull-like face of the Shinigami King. "We're the gods of death. What did you expect, flowers and diamonds?"

Apollo stepped forward. "Well, I've heard that one of your kind have taken quite a liking to gold and apples. Specifically, one golden apple."

"MY golden apple," Aphrodite added.

"You must be talking about Ryuk," said the Shinigami King. "He just returned from the human world. Speak with him as you please, but be warned, he is clever and greedy, and he will not part willingly with his prize."

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><p>Ryuk was polishing his pens when two glowing beings without names or lifespans appeared before him.<p>

"Whoa!" Ryuk stared at them. "Who are you?"

"I'm Aphrodite, and this is my brother, Apollo," said the female. "I'm here to take back what's rightfully mine."

Ryuk gulped. The time had finally come. He had been dreading this day ever since the god, Ares, had come knocking on Light Yagami's door for a little inspirational chat.

"Ah," said Ryuk resignedly, and he rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out the shining Apple of Discord. "_Kallistē__. _To the fairest!" he declared, rolling it around in his clawed hand. "This came to me five years ago. I have become very attached to it. After all, I clearly deserve it."

"Get your ugly paws off of that," Aphrodite demanded.

Apollo shushed her. "What my sister means to say, my good Shinigami, is that we're willing to trade something of equal value for the trinket."

"It is NOT a trinket."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "What do you desire, Shinigami Ryuk?"

"Apples," Ryuk said immediately. "Freshly picked from the gardens of Mount Olympus. As many as I can carry."

"Deal!" Aphrodite exclaimed.

Apollo frowned and held up a hand. "Hera would not be pleased. Those are her apples."

"Grown from Daddy's land," Aphrodite countered. "And Daddy's little girl gets what Daddy's little girl wants."

"Illeism is not very becoming, sister."

"I also have another condition," Ryuk said, chuckling. "I would like to meet the one responsible for flattering me with this gift. I would like to meet my secret admirer."

Aphrodite and Apollo exchanged glances. "Admirer?"

"Of course. This was no random act of kindness," Ryuk said. He spat into his hand and stroked his hair into place. "And if she looks anything like you," he nodded at Aphrodite, "I'm in for a real treat."

"Eris," Apollo murmured.

Aphrodite sneered at him. "Well, Shinigami, I hope you're used to disappointments."

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><p>The Olympians gaped openly at their visitor. A Japanese God of Death, on their mountain!<p>

"What's the meaning of this?" Zeus's voice thundered across the courtyard, followed by the Olympian king himself.

"Look what Apollo found," Aphrodite squealed, waving the Apple of Discord in the air for all to see. "And no thanks to the rest of you!"

Dionysus hung his head in shame. Athena's eyebrows twitched. Ares shrugged. Apollo sent Artemis, who had returned home earlier empty-handed, a smug smile.

"Bragging is poor sportsmanship," Artemis responded sweetly.

"But why is there a Shinigami on my mountain?" Zeus blustered.

"He's here to see Eris," Apollo said quickly before Hera could kick them off Olympus for agreeing to give Ryuk access to her precious apple tree of immortality. "After all, she is the one who started this mess, and chaos loves company."

"And the present company loves chaos, doesn't he?"

The throng of Olympians parted grudgingly, making way for the goddess of strife and chaos herself to glide up to the Shinigami.

Eris's gaze fell upon the Shinigami's wide purple lips and sharp cheekbones, and her chilly heart instantly beat faster. Ryuk took in the sight of the goddess's glossy black wings and wicked talons, and his fanged grin grew. Nobody missed the mischievous glint in either of their eyes.

"And apples," Ryuk finally croaked. "The present company loves apples."

"And luckily for him, I know where the best ones grow."

"Wait, what?" Hera shouted as the pair flew away, gleefully flapping and screeching like two overgrown bats.

"Well, well, well. Don't fall in love now, Shinigami," Aphrodite sang under her breath, "for I've heard it is quite hazardous to your health."

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><p><strong>AN: **And _fin!_

I hope that balanced out the angst in the last few chapters. Thanks for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed the story ^_^


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